Soiled Saints

Geez…I go and jack a great idea, and what does Perry Noble do?  He takes my first leader I wanted to talk about.  So, I’m just going to go now in alphabetical order.  And that brings me to a crazy Asian.

Besides being the senior pastor of Cornerstone Community Church in Simi Valley, California and president of Eternity Bible College, besides speaking to untold thousands (i’m guessing hundreds of thousands) of people through a very-full conference and youth camp schedule, besides being a husband and father to four (?) kids, Francis Chan is crazy.

He’s simply, yet seriously crazy.

Don’t believe me?  Check out www.crazylovebook.com and see for yourself.

Francis Chan is crazy in love with Jesus.

And I want to love Jesus like Francis does.

I first became familiar with Francis at Passion 07 in Atlanta, and in the build-up before it via the Passion podcast.  Francis, since he lives in California, is prone to have staff meetings at the beach, in between waves and surfing.  He was a speaker in the conference, and was also our community group leader.  The first night of community group, Francis said some things that I haven’t forgotten.  “God is not a duplicator, he wants to do something fresh and original during this time.  Don’t pray for “do it again like last year.”  Seek Him anew for this year.”  Also, in talking about emotions, he took a humorous little jab at his alma mater, when he stated “I went to Master’s Seminary (the school started by noted pastor John MacArthur) where the 11th commandment was ‘thou shalt not feel.””  I was very amused by that, and I’m not sure why.  Let’s say that Francis and John have similar theologies, and different methodologies.  Although, it’d be unbelieveable cool to see Johnny Mac surfing.

God has used Francis to impact people across the world, as he was one of the main speakers in the Passion World Tour of 2008, including a trip to Kampala, Uganda in front of more than 25,000 people.

Besides surfer, pastor, and leader, Francis can flat out preach.  His sermon about “Lukewarm and Loving It” won’t be forgotten anytime soon by people who heard it.  His use of the “Pez dispenser” analogy made me dwell and repent of loving Bible teachers rather than the Bible itself.   (and just how easy is that to do?)

Over the past few years, Francis and his church have become known for going the extra mile to follow Jesus.  His church is busting at the seams, overcrowded for most of the past few years.  they desperately need to build a new facility, having planted and started multiple churches to try and stem the growth problem.  The more people who leave for plants, are replaced by more than who left.  But instead of a crazy near-50 million dollar project, his church took a left turn and decided to do church services outside in an amphitheater setting to save money and give more to the poor, plus use the facility for their community to enjoy as well.  They took unbelievable shots in the local press, and the site has still to my knowledge not been completely a go for take0ff.  Nevertheless, Cornerstone is serious about living the gospel out no matter the cost.

So, now that you know a tad about Francis, allow me to transition as I wind this post down.

WHAT I WOULD DO IF I HAD AN HOUR OF UNINTERRUPTED TIME WITH FRANCIS CHAN:

-I would first pick his brain about his education and his goals for Eternity Bible College.

-I would then ask him questions about his his theology affects his leadership.

-Then, I would ask his advice on how to be a better dad.

-Next, I’d ask him a few off-base questions like:  Do you ever get nervous before you speak anymore?  Who do you listen to besides yourself?  What’s your favorite band/singer?

-I would spend a good deal of time in asking him to tell me lessons he learned as a new pastor.

-I would ask him how he casts vision and for any advice on that subject.

-I would ask him to pray over me.

-I would finally ask if I could tour Cornerstone and glean from his staff.

-I would ask him to pick up the tab for lunch.  JUST KIDDING.  I’d gladly pay for his meal.

You can check him out here:  www.cornerstonesimi.com.

You can further check out their plans for a completely awesome plan for their new church at www.tierrarejadaproject.com.

And finally, you can download his sermons on itunes.  I warn you….you will be convicted.  Don’t let the sly sense of humor fool you.  You will face up to your sin, and be led to own it, confess it and repent of it through Francis’ sermons.

I know first hand.

Jason

Next:  We travel to Dallas where it takes a Village to raise a church.

Perry Noble is the sr. pastor of Newspring Church in Anderson, SC.  They have other campuses in Greenville, Florence, and are looking at other cities as well.

I read his blog regularly and he mentioned that he was working on a series of blogs about five leaders he’d like to meet with.

His idea struck me.  So, I am completely jacking his idea and doing my “Hess” version of such a thing.  In the coming days, you’ll read about some great leaders and godly men that I’d love to be able to talk to.  They have been mentors and instructors from afar.  Perhaps one day up close, although I doubt it.  Still, a guy can dream.

Sunday Summary:  My emotions are not trustworthy…..

I’m honestly not sure how I feel about today.  I received numerous compliments and pats on the back.  But Southway is turning out to be a quite interesting bride of Christ.  She says one thing, but there seems to me to be an underlying current of “change, as long as you DON’T mess with this or that.”

Now why do I feel that way?  To be completely truthful, I haven’t received much negative feedback from today’s message.  And maybe the above paragraph is quite the figment of my imagination.

After all, looks can be interpreted so many different ways; looks, voice inflections, word choices; all to make a matrix of interpretive possibilities.  And my interpretation of people’s responses, actions, looks, etc. IS FALLIBLE.

So I rest in the knowledge that God is graceful.  And He graced us today.  We moved my stuff out of my office to turn my office into an extension for the nursery.  I’m now in the workroom, and could care less about where I office.  Give me a desk and an internet connection and I’ll be fine.  The good thing that happened is that we made a decision and started to do something with it.

We wrapped up the series from Acts 2, and I asked our church to dream with me.  We had them turn in some dream cards, and they were most interesting in their response.

I actually said this:  “God doesn’t want your money, He wants your heart………….I want your money..”

And I quickly followed that up with “I don’t wish to be rich (although we all are rich).  I want that money to fuel m inistry that will expand the kingdom of God.”

God has a deal for us:  Live for my glory and I’ll be your joy.

And I’ve got to take that deal.  “No deal” is not an option.

But as I left the campus today, I finally realized:

We’ve got a lot of work to do.

Lord, help me.  I can’t do this (or anything) without you.

T’was a good day.  Just a tad confused.

Jason

January 20, 2009

Washington DC is about 12-1500 miles away from Alvin, Texas, but it might as well have been 1,000,000 miles away.  While the whole world seemingly watched the historial inaugaration of our first black president on a cold DC day, my daughter was dealing with the fact that change finally came to her house.

On January 20, while millions around the world cheered, danced, and celebrated, a family in Alvin mourned, cried, and contemplated.

Misty began her sentence on that Tuesday morning, having left her house early in the morning for official sentencing and being carted away.  Her immediate family was there along with some faithful friends.  Krista and Hayley were not there, as the shock of seeing their mom taken away was something they probably couldn’t-didn’t want to handle.

Around 10 in the morning, I made my way to Alvin to see Krista.  Before I got to her house, I stopped by Super Wal-Mart (I know, the high cost of low prices), and grabbed the biggest bag of chocolate I could find.  Why would I do that?  Because my daughter is like her daddy.  She likes chocolate.  At the Alvin Wal-Mart, that center of cultural exchange (let’s say that Alvin is still regressive in its’ racial views as a whole), every t.v. was tuned in to the inaugaration.  I could see and hear Obama even if I didn’t want to.  Peoples’ carts were parked in the middle of the aisle to see our new president recite oaths and relay his vision for America.

While I love my country, I was the least bit concerned about a new president or a new America.  I only had one, laser-sharp focus of a concern.

And she was waiting for me.

I got to her house, and the mood was subdued, but not overtly sad.  I learned a very valuable lesson that day.  While I had a bag-o-chocolate, and the Disney movie “The Gameplan” ready for eating and watching, I learned something much more intense than a choco-rush or a laugh during the ballet scene.  (really, you should check out the ballet scene….Cracks me up)

Krista’s grandfather is a big man.  He’s solid 6’4 I guess, and could pass for a linebacker.  In other words, good luck trying to wrestle the “clicker” away from him!!  And he wasn’t suggesting that we put in the Gameplan, instead he kept going back to that great, colossal, stupendous movie……….

You know, that one.

The one that has single-handedly cured forms of diseases left and right.

The one that has helped our stock market over the last 7 days.

The one that has meant RATINGS for any t.v. station who dares to show it.

You guessed it:  Dances……..with………Wolves.

Geez…I had to live through that once.  Now, I have company.  Krista and I just sit…..on the couch….for three hours watching this movie.   A couple of times, I was ancy.  What would we do?  How would we redeem this time?

I learned the art of being.  I didn’t say anything heroic.  I didn’t do anything noteworthy.  I just sat…

She texted me a couple of times….as she was sitting within 3 inches of me.  She asked me a paralyzing question:

“Daddy,”

INTERRUPTION:  I used to make fun of guys who melted like pudding when their kids said “Daddy.”  I wanted to get their man-card from them and destroy it right in front of their face.  Daddy?  Come on, you are weak!!

Well, I’ve just joined the tribe of weak.  Everytime I see or hear that word….my heart just melts.  I can’t believe someone would choose to call me daddy.  What a privilege, what a responsibility!!  What an opportunity for God’s grace to shine!!

“Daddy, will I make it through this?”  Now that’s a loaded, powerful question.  One that I needed divine help in answering correctly for the good of her present and future being.  I silently prayed as I pondered an answer.  I didn’t text her, I whispered in her ear:

“Sweetheart, I don’t know how, nor when, but God will get His glory in a way we’ll be able to see it.  He’s got you and He always has.  He is your peace.  You will have pain, but ultimately, He will prevail.  You can trust Him.  And He’s given you to me for me to show you Him.  As much as I love you, He loves you so much more.  You can trust Him.”

And with that, the oddest thing happened.  She put her head on my shoulder.

No, no no…re-read that slowly.

She:  Nervous, excitable, drama-queen Krista.

Put:  she doesn’t always like to be proactive.

her head:  She’s ot much in ways of affection either.

on my shoulder:  I inwardly freaked out a bit.  Her eyes closed, and a smile went across her face.

I was actually troubled by this.  Here’s a 14 year old girl, with her head resting and nestling on my shoulder.  Would her family think that this was inappropriate?  Would they think I’m some sort of freak?

Holy cow…..I’m scared.  And right at the precise moment where I most acutely felt scared……………..

Her aunt walked in.

HOLY COW!!!

And she opened her mouth with words to follow.  Would they be confirming my fear and condemning our relationship?

“So, is she asleep yet?”  Like it was teh most normal thing in the world.

Both Krista and I responded with a no.  But for her, she was at rest.  She told me she was able to relax.  Just a daughter’s head on her daddy’s shoulder.

No Game plan.

No dances with wolves or other animals.

She never touched the chocolate (at least on that day).

No trips to the mall, or a restaurant.

Just being.

Sometimes the best thing a daddy can do for his daughter is just to be there.

That’s a powerful lesson that I’m still learning.

Jason

WARNING: Read this with the knowledge that my sarcasm will flow like wine at an Italian wedding.

I wish I could state for the record that there haven’t been problems with Krista and I and everything has been smooth since the summer of ’07.

However, I would be lying if I did. One of the most unexpected problems occurred in the weeks immediately following the mission trip to Mexico. I never would anticipate this problem.

Some of the same kids (and adults) who were crying tears of joy when they saw the beginnings of dad and daughter happening quickly changed their tune. They began to accuse me of doing something I had sworn not to do by God’s grace.

Something that I worked my donkey off to make sure wasn’t the case.

They accused me of playing favorites.

All of a sudden, Krista was my favorite, and they were upset. (Perhaps jealousy? Perhaps that they weren’t the center of my universe?)

Honestly, how stupid is that? (no really, it’s S.T.U.P.I.D on a level that I can’t even two years later begin to process without getting uber-pissed off).

Girls in the youth group who had cried over our story were now crying foul. This began to raise its oh-so-ugly head on the mission trip. I thought I’d put a quick stop to it.

I thought wrong.

Now mind you, no one had the guts to come to my face. Instead, they piled on Krista. If I had a dime for how many times she came to me crying about how someone unloaded on her about our relationship and how they wanted it for themselves, I’d be………………

$2.40 richer. That’s right. I counted. 24 different times she came to me. Which means 24 different times they came to her.

And 24 times they failed to come to me.

which means 24 cases of gossip. You know gossip; the sin church-folk don’t count as sin?

Yeah. that one. And the more it happened, the more pissed I got. How dare they? They were supposed to be her friends. After all she’d been through; to complain and whine and yes, dare I say it: PRAY….about me playing favorites?

For the record: Okay, tell you what, you go your whole life without a dad, and have your mom about to be in jail, and see if you don’t qualify for a little bit of extra attention from the YOUTH PASTOR!!

In a hearty bit of irony: two girls didn’t slunk down to that level. Both of them had lost their dad. One had lost their dad to brain cancer five years previous. She NEVER got to that level.

The other had a dad she rarely saw, since he lived in a different country. She saw him yearly, but not nearly as much as she probably wanted to. She too, NEVER got to that level.

No, the girls that complained, they ALL HAD DAD’S at home.

And now, all of a sudden, they turn on Krista because she’s my “daughter?”

I attacked this problem with a vengeance.  I went to one girl during the mission trip.  She is a vocal person, and I count her as a friend.  She stated that she didn’t have a problem with Krista and I, but she just was watching us and wanting what we had.  I told her to pursue her dad.  She stated that since her dad and her didn’t share the same faith background, that it would be difficult.  She wanted someone to hold her accountable in spiritual things as much as she wanted a dad to ground her when she would defy him.  I told her I could hold her accountable.  But I’m not going to take his place.  That would be sinful for me to do so.

Another girl actually told me that she wished something bad would happen to her dad so her and I could share the bond Krista and I had.  I didn’t get insanely mad at her….for she actually told me this without me prompting her to do so.  I told her she was in sin, and that she should pursue her dad with the same intensity of thought as her imagination of something bad happening to him.  She did, and their relationship got better.

I took a final step of teaching the girls in Sunday School.  I told them that my whole ministry at FBC, I tried my hardest to not play favorites.  I worked very hard to make myself available to anyone at any time.

They began to squirm a little, for they knew what was coming.  And I didn’t want to disappoint:)!!

I asked:  Did Jesus play favorites?  “no.”

-What about the 12 disciples?  Didn’t He spend more time with them than the others?

-And what about the 3 whom Jesus took to the transfiguration?

-And what about the 1 who had the guts to exclaim in his gospel that he was the “one whom Jesus loved?”

-At this point in the lesson, they were convinced that Jesus played favorites.  And then, the bomb dropped:

“So why are you pissed that I’m doing the same thing as Jesus? If I’m playing favorites, get mad at Him, not me.”

You could have heard a pin drop.

I then followed up with the woman at the well, the Roman centurion, and other gospel accounts that showed how unlike the Pharisees, Jesus was for all types of people.  I assured them that Jesus really didn’t play favorites, and by His grace I wouldn’t either.

BUT:  Jesus did spend more time with some people than others.  He spent more time with the 12 than the masses.

-more with the 3 than with the 12.

-and an argument can be made about the 1 vs. the 3.

I remarked that they did it in their own lives.  They didn’t always call me when they were doing stuff.   They didn’t always email me, or greet me first when we came together for stuff.  Nor did I expect them to.  So why should they expect it of me?

They said they understood, and a few even came up to me afterwards to say that they were sorry.

That’s my “favorite” problem…let me tell you.  But if it meant trading Krista for not having that problem, then I’d go through it again every minute of the day, every day of my life.  She’s worth it.

I love that kid.  “My” kid.

Jason

The aftermath of the aftermath: Unfortunately, this is still a smoldering problem. After all the work noted above, and all the confrontation, and all the rest, I still had to and have to push the reset button on the whole favorites thing. Now though, Krista isn’t the first one that comes to peoples’ minds when they think of me playing favorites. But nonetheless, that song is still being downloaded and played. I guess as long as we’re still human, we’ll deal with stuff like that.

It doesn’t take away from the fact that for all the girls that stated stuff like that, I loved them all very much.  And I still do.  I count it a high privilege to call them friends and have them call me friend.

Post-Camp, Summer 2007:

After camp concluded, I went to Misty, Krista’s’ mom, and asked her “could you believe that Krista called me her dad?  I mean come on, how ridiculous does that sound?”

Apparently, that didn’t sound ridiculous at all to her.  She was actually quite thankful.  She encouraged me to consider filling that role in Krista’s life.  And Mandy was actually okay with the idea????  What happened to my wife, who isn’t the biggest fan of having kids, although to be fair, she will if God blesses us with one?

I had a choice to make.  And I needed the help of the precious Holy Spirit.  After talking it over with God, Mandy and a few others, I made a decision.  Me, the king of “not being a dad”……

became one.

Not officially mind you.  Krista still lives with her grandparents and younger sister.  But I became her daddy.

There have been many trials, tests, laughs, hurts, victories, etc. since then.  Allow me to share some with you.

July 2007:  Mexico

This has a wonderful backstory all of itself.  We had gone to Mexico as a part of Way of The Cross ministries (www.wotc.org) since 2005.  The ’07 trip would be radically different.  See, when we gave the trip report in 2006, we kinda challenged the congregation about going on a trip the next year.  In between services, a member came up to me, and we had the following exchange:

“I’d like to help sponsor the trip next  year.  I don’t want anyone to have the excuse that they don’t have enough money to go.”

That’s great.  We could always use sponsors.

“No, you don’t get it.  I’d like to sponsor THE TRIP.”

…uh…..that’s like 20-25 thou….

(Never got to the “sand”)

“I know.  I got it.”

So 93 people got to go on this person’s dime (like 43,000 dollars….which means 430,000 dimes).  Krista nd Misty were going to go.  After April, Misty was out of the question, and Krista wasn’t sure if she wanted to go.  Somehow, (memory fuzzy about this) she went.

One of the days we were supposed to go over the border, Krista left her passport behind.  So, we waited for her to be dropped off.  Her, Brother Ben (leader of WOTC) myself and a few others went to a local restaurant to eat.

She ordered Chicken Fried Steak (I have to capitalize due to what’s coming).  She picked at it like a disinterested 13 year old girl.  Concerned for her because she naturally tends to be on the skinny side, I said to her, “you need to eat four more bites.”  Her response was swift, teenage-girl-like, and drenched not with ketchup nor barbecue sauce, but with sass and attitude that accompanies a girl of her age and stature:

“Why should I?”

And it was then….that a light shone from heaven, and a voice that sounded way-too-much like James Earl Jones said, “this is my son, with whom I’m kind-a pleased…”

At that moment, I learned the power of the phrase that pays.  Four words that had such power that I dare be careful not to sully them even now.

Four words that I’ve heard countless times.

Four words that I formerly resented, hated, and never understood.

Four words that changed my life.  Ready to know what they are?  (Hint:  if you are a parent reading this, you already know where I’m going, and you’re probably laughing and shouting a hearty “AMEN” right now)

Because……………..

I…………..

Said…………..

So……………..

WOW.  Even typing that gives me a head-rush!!!  I said the phrase that pays, and immediately was super-charged with a power from on-high…….at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

She looked at me, realized she wasn’t going to win this one, and ate four precise bites.

Awesome………..simply………..awesome.

When I returned from the trip, I called my dad.

Dad, I said it…..the phrase that pays…

“Son, I knew you did before you started talking.”

How?

“The phone glowed when it rang!!”

More to come,

Jason

Louisiana Tech University is the college of such people as NBA legend Karl Malone, and my dad.  My dad graduated about 20 years before Karl did though.

La Tech is old, run down, wrinkly, musty-smelling and beaten up (kinda like my old man….BA-ZING pops:)  ) , and its dorms haven’t changed since they were originally built before my dad went to school there in the 60’s.  Their original use:  Fall out shelters in case of nuclear attack.  Trust me, they would have survived.

We went to camp there put on by student life, an organization I have tremendous respect for.  We went in 2004, and again from 2006-08.  Fellowship is planning yet another student life venture in July 2009, and I regret that I will not be able to join them in said adventure.

In the years of 04, 06, and 07, we went to La Tech, and experienced the dorm life at student life.  04 saw us encounter a speaker named David Nassar, who challenged us to live for the glory of God.  Music was by this little known man named Chris………Tomlin…..

In ’06, a year that saw me not go, the speaking was done by a man named Rick Ousley, who in addition to his itenirant speaking, also saw him pastoring a church full-time in Alabama.  Music was led by The Swift, a group that I hadn’t thought of as a worship-style group, but did a phenomenal job by all concerned.

’07 saw us gearing up for Kristian Stanfill with music (Stanfill is now a part of a group I call the Fantastic Five.  He has recently become an artist on sixsteps records, the label founded by Louie Giglio and features the formerly Fantastic Four of David Crowder*Band, Charlie Hall, Matt Redman, and Chris Tomlin.  Now, with the addition of Stanfill, they are known as the Fantastic Five.  Which leads me to a problem.  What if they add another person?  What shall I call them then?  The Succulent Six?  The Satisfactory Seven? )  while Rick was supposed to return with speaking.

Rick didn’t make it.

What happened to Rick can be discussed later, but I believe firmly that it was due to the hand of the sovereign Lord.  We had a replacement speaker, who’s name was David.  David came, and along with Kristian, we were off.

Krista was at the camp.  We took mainly jr. high kids, with a few sr. highers thrown in to make sure the jr. high was razzed incessantly.  The first day, things went normal (in other words, every small thing that could go wrong, did go wrong).

Tuesday, June 26, 2007 would be a day I’d never forget.

The night session saw David speak on abandonment.  Nearly the entire talk-time, I was watching Krista, her reaction, her mannerisms.  Each phrase of David’s talk seemed to be just for Krista, although there was in all likelihood no chance he knew of what happened.  At the end of the talk, he noted that if students needed prayer, to find a youth leader to pray with.  I was at the front of our section, looking for anyone, when (seemingly) out of nowhere….

THUMP…

There she was, all 82 pounds of her, head buried in my chest, holding on for dear life.  I was struck, both by how tight she was grabbing and by the sobbing she was doing.

I looked up to Mandy and motioned for her to “handle this,” which she emphatically shot down by pointing her finger at me, mouthing “she’s all yours.”  That’s my wife, the help-mate God designed for me:)!!!  (and that wasn’t a joke, she knew exactly what needed to be done and did it….)

I didn’t know what to say.  How could school, under or post-grad prep anyone for what to say to a girl whose dad is a piece of ……work, and whose mom faced at best an uncertain future?

What do you say to a 13 year old girl who’s never known normal?

I asked God the same question.  The response:  lead her to Him.

“Sweetheart, we love you.  God has given you to us, and us to you.  We don’t know what’s going to happen, or why this has happened.  but we love you.  We’ll take care of you. ”  I said this over and over, while patting her back, and petting her curly-haired head.

And then……I stole from my La Tech-graduating class of 1966-with the commemorative brick to prove-it father a line I’d heard him say before….

“I love you like you were my own.”  To me, it was meant as a soothing statement.

A calming statement.

A statement that she had value and worth and dignity and a future.

A statment that while not a throw-away statement, was not intended to be an anchor for her.

Little did I know…..

When two people hug, especially two guys, you have the moment of embrace, and the moment of discharge.  I was ready to discharge.  I backed away, and she stayed put…..attached to me:)!!

I pulled away again…she wasn’t quite ready for the discharge.   Again, I looked at Mandy.  She looked back as if to say “Better you than me.”  And again, she was right.

We stood in the middle of the aisle with 2498 other people for what seemed like hours.  The song had long wrapped up…people were dispersing to groups….

And she wouldn’t……let……go….

By this time, I was getting nervous.  I have heard too many horror stories about youth pastors and girls, and my alarms were ringing in my head.  Mandy was staying behind to protect me, which I was most grateful for.

“what can I do to get this kid off of me?” I silently wondered as kids walked by and made sympathetic faces towards us as if to say “oh, I bet she’s going through something really bad.”  In an act of sheer desperation, I resorted to the perhaps-lowest thing I could have done.

I flexed the “bobs.”

What are the “bobs” you ask?

The “bobs” are my pec muscles.  I flexed my pecs…..which is a story all in of itself.

When I was in 6th-7th grade, I developed a mild case of gynecomastia, “gyno” for short.  It’s the development of breast tissue on males.  I had for lack of better words, developing breasts.  At one point, my step mom took me to the doctor, concerned for me, asking him if I should obtain a training bra.  I responded that we didn’t need to go out and buy one, for I could just borrow one of hers……..

YEAH I KNOW, THAT’S A LOW BLOW…..but I was 13 and very insecure….

Well, when i grew out of fat-weeble-wobble and into skinny teenager, I was able to develop my pecs quicker in the gym….

Hence….the “bobs.”

I flexed the “bobs” and she immediately withdrew (praise Him) and said WHAT WAS THAT?  I had a choice:  Truth or lie?

I lied.  “Must have been a speaker reverb…bass guitar….anything.”

But the mission was accomplished.  She let go!!

Later that night, after a scavenger hunt game for our group, I received a text message from her.

“Hey, I saw my dad tonight.”

My heart stopped.  Dennis, here?  Oh boy.  I’m going to jail.  I’m going to find him, and to rip off a phrase from Mark Driscoll, Im going to punch him in the throat.  Why the throat?

Because whether you are a UFC-style striker or a wimpy fister, if you punch a person in the throat, they aren’t going to fight back….for it’s hard to fight back when you’re dead.

I was going to tear this guy up.  My response to her was, “where is he?  I need to..ahem..talk to him.”

I waited for the response….

waited…..

and waited………

and then it came.

Her response nearly made me pass out.

“You.  You’re my dad.  You are the one I look to as dad.”

And my world has never been the same since.

Jason

NEXT:  Mission trips are hilarious with a teenager daughter, and January 20th 2009 is a day that will be sketched in my mind for reasons other than Obama’s inaugaration.

April 7, 2007:  UFC 69:  Shoot Out.

UFC stands for Ultimate Fighting Championship.  It’s like WWE, only real.

For the first time, UFC presented a pay per view broadcast from Houston.  And we were there, along with 15,000 other screaming, mostly male fans.  Extol the virtues of this sport or bemoan the brutality as you may, and you may, but for the purposes of this blog, the backstory is crucial to where we are going.

We were treated to about 3 hours of action, most of which happened in the octagon where the fighters fought.  Some of the action was watching fans in-the-process-of-being-inebriated.  Watching drunk people try and function like normal people should go on my list of “hobbies.”

The main event that night was the welterweight champion Georges (George) St. Pierre, better known as GSP (and I called him GPS) against underdog supreme Matt Serra.  Serra won a reality show called “The Ultimate Fighter” in season four to obtain a shot at the title.  Serra was a 21st century Rocky Balboa.  Out of 15,000 people in attendance I bet you couldn’t find 1,000 people who thought Serra had a snowball’s chance of surviving south of heaven in this match.

Which made the first round knockout of GSP (who needed a GPS to locate where his talent went) even more shocking, great, and wild.  As we left that night, everyone in our crew was buzzing about what we saw.

The parking garage saw us watch a potential post-match fight between two angry young men.  We were shocked  by Serra, shocked by angry-garage guy, and shocked by how long it was taking to leave the garage.

Nothing would nor could prep us for the shock to come.

As we were finally making some head-way, we received a phone call.  It was Corey’s wife, Elizabeth.  It was getting late, so a phone call in my mind was a tad unexpected.  Two words:  Misty confessed.  I was passed the phone and stated for her to stop joking.

Sadly, she wasn’t joking.  Oh if only she was.  Now, there are two concepts to explore.  Who is Misty and what was the confession?

Misty Weaver is three months younger than me, being born in September 1973.  She is Krista’s mom.  She also is Hayley’s mom.  She is a single mom.  While Hayley’s dad comes around, Krista’s doesn’t at all.  She was living with her parents in Alvin, working as a nurse for a downtown Houston doctor.  Our church had been praying with her as she had asked us to pray for the families affected by a recent office fire that had ended up killing three people.  We joined her in prayer for the families of those affected by the fire.

While you may find a few hundred fans to say Matt Serra could win the title, I bet you’d find not one of Misty’s friends to guess what would happen to her next.

After a long Saturday with police, Misty confessed to starting the fire.  All sorts of questions popped up in my mind:  Why?  How?  When?  Why?  Why?

Only one came raging to the forefront:  What do we need to do for Krista?  It’s Saturday, but Sunday’s coming.

April 8, 2007.  FBC   The Fall Out

FBC is Fellowship Bible Church.  This wasn’t on pay per view.  But the knock-out force with which the news would come would be felt none-the-less.  I went to the office early to pray, and met Krista before service.  I relayed to her that  “I just want you to know that we can do whatever you want to do with this news.  We don’t have to say a thing, or we can let them know.  It’s your story, and your choice.  I’ll back you up no matter what you decide.”

She replied, “let’s tell them.  It’s going to get out anyway, I may as well tell them so I don’t have to answer after a lot of rumors.”  I thought she was incredibly brave, and wondered how in the world she would say these things.  After all, I talk for a living, and I don’t think I could do what she was advocating doing.

The closer the time came to talking to the youth group about what had happened, the more she began to show signs of fear.  I walked over to her, pulled her into a side hug, and whispered, “we don’t have to do this.  You are under no obligation to do this.  If you want to pull back, I understand.  If you want, I’ll tell them.”

With those beautful brown eyes staring back at me, eyes that I would grow to love and hate (hate because I buckle everytime I see them) over the next two years, she replied…..”No, I’ll do it.”  I told her that I would stand by her side, and never leave it as she would tell her peers about her mom.

Right before she was about to tell her peers she came to me and asked, “will you tell them?  I’ll stand by you but I want you to tell them.”  I replied to her that this wasn’t my story to tell, and I didn’t want her to feel slighted by my telling of it.  She insisted so…………I did.

As I was telling a bunch of then-jr. high girls about the news that would alter the lives of many people forever, I silently prayed that the girls would rally around Krista.  And to my joy, they did.  They hugged, cried, passed around KLeenex boxes (note:  wanna teach jr. high girls?  ALWAYS HAVE KLEENEX)

Krista would not go to to school that Monday or Tuesday as news of Misty’s crime hit the paper, the net, and the t.v.  Wednesday would be the day of reckoning, as she would return to her jr. high for a (not at all) normal day of classes.

I went with her and walked her onto campus.  Little did she know that she would get newspaper clippings in her locker with her mom’s picture circled with the word “KILLER” drawn in sharpie marker.  Little did she know that she would be fairly-routine fodder for teachers who were neither well-meaning nor sensitive to her hurts.  For that was still to come, in the weeks and months to come.

As I walked her to her gym where she would wait for the first bell, I noticed eyes staring at the two of us.  Pasty-high waisted white guy is walking skinny, curly-haired-but great-complexion black-n-white girl around.  I could hear some of the remarks…..

“is that her boyfriend?”

“is that her dad?”

Internally, I laughed.  “I’m neither.  I’m just a dude who is helping a friend through a rough time.”

Later that night at youth group, we chucked our planned stuff to see if anyone else was going through rough seas.  While their storms may not be as violent or wave-inducing as Krista’s, they were still storms.  We cried, passed more tissue, and tried our best to BE the church.

As I left that night, I was struck by the thought I had earlier in the day.  How can I help this girl?  What must she be thinking?  “I’m just a friend helping another friend through a rough time.”

Boy, was I wrong…

More to come,

Jason

NEXT:  All it takes is for one text message to make  Louisiana Tech University  one of my favorite places in all the world.

NOTE: Some parts of this blog will have questionable content due to my quotations of certain people. I’m not in any way trying to glorify or lift up the terms, ideas, or people behind both.

When it gets right down to it, there have been two great loves of my life. Jesus and Mandy.

Within the last two years, there has been the addition of a third.

Before I begin to introduce you to Krista, allow me to clear up some issues regarding the ESPN blog post.

I have received more feedback to that post (because I asked for itJ ) than any post I’ve ever done. Again, it’s probably because I targeted it for feedback. Nevertheless, the feedback was varied in type and response.

Some commented to me on the blog itself, while others gave facebook comments either on the wall or in a private message.

1. The ladies were looking for a meal-ticket.

True. I’ve no doubt that professional athletes are targeted for their notoriety, fame, and money. The money I’m guessing being most attractive, perhaps now more than ever with our economic uncertainties. I’ve also no doubt in the depravity of men and women. Were the athletes targets? Sure. Were they helpless? I don’t think so. I’m putting the main emphasis on men (in the case of athletes and dead-beat dad-ism) as the source of the problem because they can say no…but far too often don’t…and then walk away from the children they’ve made (again, not all do….far too many do).

2. I’m accusing ESPN and SI of scratching the surface when I too am only scratching the surface.

Guilty as charged. Blogs have limits and I am no exception. However, I could have been a little more thorough and a little less “reactive” in writing that piece. I didn’t include many factors in the way we’ve gotten here. The problem of single-parent issues is a complex one, far more complex than my post indicated. For example, what about abuse that forces a mom (in most cases) or a dad (in few cases) to move away and re-start their whole lives? What about “cycles” in which even though the son hates what the father did…he strangely repeats the behavior in his own life, creating another cycle of hurt, shame, and neglect? Tons of factors play into this complex problem, tons more than I listed.

3. Media has just as much if not more influence than athletes do on the way we look at women.

True again. Back in my early 20’s I remember hearing about a “shock jock” radio guy who was just over-the-top (I mean Howie Stern would have blushed) in the way he approached women. He called them “dumpsters.” Meaning, that they were only good for depositing semen. (I am sad I had to type that line. It’s necessary to show the complete depravity with which we are dealing with) I was shocked walking away from that. Apparently, the shock jock survived and had quite a run on the radio. He recently left radio due to a station formatting change. I listened to his last show (2 hours). I was overwhelmed by what I heard. Many men called him “father” for the way he “trained up his children” to look at women, not get married, and to get more “ass than a toilet seat.” Even more disturbing were the women who called in with their love of this host and how he helped their sons or boyfriends to be better men.

In addition to radio, what about pornography? And I’m not really talking about what one can get when they are “of age.” I’m talking about the soft-core stuff, like the Victoria’s Secret catalog Mandy just received…….and she wasn’t sure why since she wasn’t on Vickie’s catalog list. I threw it away. It’s soft-core porn. And it, along with the Playboy “revolution,” has caused a serious shift in the way women are portrayed and viewed, not just by men, but by women themselves.

Having said all of that, allow me to introduce to you the third greatest love of my life.

Krista Leigh Weaver was born on March 15, 1994. She just turned 15 not too long ago. Her dad is black. Her mom is white. Due to this fact, she’s turned out to be one of the most beautiful young ladies the planet has ever seen. She doesn’t wear make up and doesn’t have to….her skin is near flawless. Don’t believe me? Check out her facebook profile (Krista Leigh Weaver-Hess….and the whole name thing is a long story that I’ll get to.)

Tragically, she’s never seen her biological father.

When she entered student ministry at Fellowship Bible Church, she was somewhat shy, which hid her true demeanor, more that of a teenage drama queen. SORRY BUT IT’S TRUEJ! I noticed her, and made sure she was plugged in. She was in a small group, attended services regularly, and was a good kid. She is a good kid. She likes Hannah Montana, bright neon colors on her shoes, and dabbles in country music (Must…break….her…..of…that….). She lived with her mom, grandparents, and younger sister Hayley (different dad).

In other words, Krista was a normal teenage kid in a single-parent situation that we saw come through the doors of FBC.

That all would change in April 2007.

More to come,

Jason

NEXT: Life-altering events for Krista, and a Life-changing text message for me.

Today was a wild day.

It’s Spring Break for like two weeks, as half of our congregation goes on one, and the other half goes on another.  It was a hoot trying to guess who was on or about to be on “break” today.

We commissioned one of our members, Ellen Harris, to work with Greater Europe Mission in teaching English as a second language, a means by which she can also share the gospel with people.  She’s already going to Mongolia and Croatia this year.  At the end of her presentation, the elders gathered around her and prayed for her.

We also debuted one of my favorite modern worship songs, “Missions’ Flame,” by Matt Redman.  Great song, and it seemed to be received well by our gathering this morning.

We continued our look at the early church in Acts by looking at Acts 2:47 in what I dubbed “the Moment of Truth.”

There’s a reality game show on t.v. that uses the title “Moment of Truth,” in which contestants are asked questions that are really intense that will, if they answer truthfully, cause strain on friends and family.  They can win up to 500k if they answer all 21 questions.  But the further they go, the more revealing the questions are.  The real moment of truth is seen in what they value most.

In Acts 2, God was doing something supernatural, that couldn’t be explained by mere mortal means.  He was adding to the number of Christians daily….as they were enjoying the favor of all the people.

Perhaps the favor of the people were open roads to introduce them to the kindness of God as displayed through Jesus.

Because everyone will have a moment of truth, and we need to help them prepare for it by showing them Jesus.

We looked at some words that we have to know and adopt as our own:

-Condemnation:  apart from Christ we stand before God condemned due to our sin.  It’s not nice, but it’s true.

-Regeneration:  We must be made alive by the strength of another; namely Jesus Christ.

-Justification:  We are made right with God through Jesus.  He alone justifiies (declares righteous) a person before God.

-Propitiation:  Christ bears the penalty for our sin, absorbing our punishment, removing God’s wrath and intercepts it from us.

-Sanctification:  the lifelong process of being made more like Jesus Christ while on this planet.

-Glorification:  the day that all our suffering, struggling and sinning will cease.  We will worship Him forever.

At the end of our days, the big question is:  What will you do with Jesus?  Either we’ll worship or hate Him.

So we can and should ask right questions, live (as much as possible) right lifestyles, pray like crazy, and be ready to answer objections.

All to prep people for Jesus.

Jason

PS:  The blog post on the athletes and kids has generated a good amount of discussion both here and on facebook.  I’ll hope to clarify some of my thoughts (not the fault of the reader, fault of the writer) as I introduce you to Krista.

I was working out on Tuesday.

Alone. (this is key to the whole post)

My guys had to cancel. I was a tad miffed, for I do look forward to working out my jaw as much as other muscles. So, unexpectedly, I put on the iPod and went to work. It was a leg day, one of my least favorites.

The iPod wasn’t on for long. I saw an ESPN news show……yeah…sports does make news…

The show in question was called Outside the Lines, hosted by ESPN lifer Bob Ley. The topic of the day? Athletes and kids outside of wedlock.

I saw a picture of a guy that looked vaguely familiar….”Hey, that looks like Travis Henry” I thought. And indeed, it was.

Sports Illustrated had an article about pro athletes and the explosion of them having kids with women outside of wedlock. Travis Henry has 9 children from 9 different women.

He estimates that he made about 20 million dollars playing football. But now, especially that he’s out of football, and extra especially since he by his own admission blew a bunch of his money, child support is getting tough.

I was struck by his story. I almost felt sorry for him. But I didn’t. I felt supremely sorry for his children.

He could have prevented like let’s say…..births 1-9 through the prudish, seemingly outdated idea of abstinence. But he didn’t. And now, 9 kids are growing up without a full-time dad.

But at least they get to see him.

Another profile was of a 15 year old son of former NBA player Jason Caffey. Caffey hasn’t paid child support nor seen his son since he was three. 12 years without a dad.

144 months.

4383 days.

Hours spent wondering….why won’t my dad see me?

Love me?

Want me?

My heart just ached as I watched the t.v.  This poor young man.  My heart also burned within me.  This terrible old man.  Why did my heart do that?  Because I believe it’s the stamp of the eternal.  God has placed eternity in the hearts of men.  And we all have a conscience, and we all know “right from wrong.”

I was reminded of another basketball player who was actually prominent while I was in High school. He was one of the first players to jump from high school straight to the pros. He never lived up to his potential…except in one area.

Shawn Kemp was supposed to be the next great player of our time. The only thing greater than his talent was his appetite for women. He fathered over 10 children out of wedlock.

A sports radio program actually called Kemp “George Washington Kemp,” for if he kept going, he really would be the father of our country. BA-ZING!!

Sure, it’s a great snap….but it only scratches the surface, for it focused a lot on the athlete/s. The Outside the Lines show, the SI article, only scratches the surface.  and to be fair, how can you do complete justice in a half-hour t.v. show or a 10 page article?  They scratch the surface because they don’t cover the following:

-The conditions that cause men to behave this way.

-The trauma little ones and not-so-little ones have in not having a dad in the home.

-The way the cycle repeats itself with boys becoming..ahem…men much too soon.

-America’s complete unhealthy obsession with celebrity.

-Our misguided thinking on what it means to be a “man” and what it means to be a good father.

-And much much more.  There are deep issues to be explored.  Ultimately, spiritual issues.

Drink deeply in these numbers, as shown on Outside the Lines:

71
50
27

71 percent of all black kids are in a single parent family; overwhelmingly supported by the mom with little input from the dad.

50 percent of Hispanic kids are born into a single parent family.

And whitey’s out there, don’t snicker: We’re responsible in a whopping way also. 27 percent of white kids are born into this.

Now there’s a lot of ways we can take this stuff.  For one, they focused a lot on the athletes instead of the kids, because let’s face it, it’s a sports news show and a sports magazine.

But the untold stories are what tantalizes me.  How did these men get to where they were serial sex-aholics?  What made them think that this lifestyle was good?  Honorable?  Helpful?

How did their sin nature gnaw at them and twist sex and sexuality into this?

And the kids?  How can these men say with a clean conscience that they are good dads?  A good dad does a LOT MORE than just pay the bills, keep food in the gut and a roof over head.  Being on time on your child support is SCRATCHING THE SURFACE.

Am I fired up?  You betcha.  And let me tell you why.

Her name is Krista.

I’m going somewhere with this, and I want you to go with me.  Next week, I’ll take you on a trip, and I really want you to journey alongside me.  While I can’t promise you’ll like it, I’ll do my dead-level best to make sure you won’t be sad you joined me.

Jason